Warning: sad? angst? short

Baking was therapeutic, at least to you and your girlfriend. Whenever someone was stressed or troubled, you and Kirstie baked. It was usually cupcakes or cookies, as they were the fastest to complete when done simply and required no special ingredients. Sometimes an eclair or cake was made, though they were reserved for special occasions or particularly bad nights. Your go-to was fudge brownies. Kirstie's was lemon cupcakes with butter cream icing. 

That was why when you arrived home from a long day at work you weren't surprised by the smell of flour and eggs. What did surprise, and worry, you was the sheer amount of various cookies that were laid out on the counter.

"Kirstie? Uh, sweetheart, what's all of this?"

She didn't respond. Instead, she held up a cookie over her shoulder for you to try. You stepped behind her and placed a hand on her waist as you leaned over, taking a bite. Your face promptly scrunched up at the taste. Kirstie raised an eyebrow. "Does it taste bad?" she asked, worried. 

You forced yourself to swallow. You licked your lips a few times to try and get rid of the taste, unsuccessfully. "This tastes bitter. What did you put in it?"

"A combination of things. I can't even remember now, honestly," she sighed. Before you could think to prompt her on why her mood was so blue, she caved. "Recording didn't go so well today. I woke up with a sore throat. It's so frustrating! I always get sick while on tour. Why do I have to be sick when I'm at home?"

You wrapped your arms around her. "Baby, you can't magically give yourself complete immunity. Everyone gets sick at some point and often multiple times throughout a year."

Kirstie melted into your embrace. "I know. It would be nice, though, to be able to make it simply disappear."

"Hey, if I was a magical fairy or something, I'd wave my wand and make you all better in a heartbeat. But all of my magic disappeared with my childhood. No magician here. Sorry."

She leaned back and looked into your eyes. "That's horribly morbid and depressing." 

You smirked. "And that cookie was bitter. This is payback. C'mon, let's make some more. This time, we will use extra sugar or something."

"We're not going to throw them all out, are we?" Kirstie asked as she appraised the entirety of your kitchen.

"You insulted my poor lament of how I lost my childhood imagination. Of course we're throwing out all of your horrible cookies. Not even the dogs will want to eat them, they're so bad."

Kirstie pouted but giggled under her breath at your last comment. "You are a meanie."

"My beautiful sick girl, only with you. Now, chop chop. I need to rectify the horrible taste in my mouth."